


Leave Your Light On

by awilliamson81



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6614662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awilliamson81/pseuds/awilliamson81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The media released his real name along with a tiny blurb about his (late) family. She's been craving more ever since. She'll admit her curiosity is bordering on unhealthy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Okay

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here goes... I hope you like it so far. Please let me know your thoughts? I'll be working on updating Seven and then coming back to this if it's received well. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME! ~Amanda (punishpage on tumblr)

It's 3 am and she's wide awake with a new mug of coffee and her warm laptop.

His light is on again. She won't stare this time. She won't.

She is.

He's there, cleaning his guns once more. Two nights ago he was a bloody mess, stitching his own arm.

She knows it's him - the one everyone is talking about and yet, she does not feel afraid.

She's seen him with his dog and wiping the sleep from his eyes. She's seen him in a low slung towel, silently begging for it to fall.

It would be her dumb luck to have a window directly across from The Punisher's window. She's totally entranced by him and doesn't try to hide it. He sees her too. She knows it because he sometimes gives her a little wave right before he turns out his light. Lately though, he leaves it on.

Bold, she thinks. Considering he's a wanted man. She supposes it's okay because the only person seeing in is her.

Since he's not stitching himself up tonight, and she knows she'll never see him outside of their little world, she undresses in front of the window. Her dresser is right there so it's not an inorganic move. She does not dare look his way - for if she did, she would see she has his rapt attention.

Tonight she opts for one of her lighter slips. She does not look over before turning off her light.

*******

Leaving her blinds up always seems like a fantastic idea at night. She pictures the sun waking her naturally and the birds fluttering in to dress her.

That is not what happens.

The sun is hot and blinding. There are no fluttery birds. Instead she has to dress herself. AGAIN. There are car horns and shouting shop owners and no Frank.

The media released his real name along with a tiny blurb about his (late) family. She's been craving more ever since. She'll admit her curiosity is bordering on unhealthy.

Whatever. It's keeping her occupied and giving her a strange sense of solace.

She does have a life. She promises. But her life is mundane and his is decidedly not.

She wakes every morning to the sounds of hell and throws on whatever slapped ass outfit she can throw together to make herself look presentable. Dress for the job you want and all that. She thinks she does a damn fine job of this most days. She's become an ace at bargain shopping for expensive looking garments. She allows herself one, maybe two new additions to her wardrobe per paycheck.

The women she works with are the flavor of fabulous she dreamt about when she was growing up in rural Vermont. Now it all seems too exhausting. The fantasy has proven to be greater than reality and she quickly learns they are all flash and no substance. Well, the ones that have actually spoken to her. She does not like to generalize or put down other women, but the ones she's reached out to were just plain mean.

It's okay though. She doesn't need anyone. As long as she has her Wi-Fi and a bed, she's good.

Also, cake. Always cake.

It's cutthroat out there. Everyone is competing for the next promotion and she's tired. She's better than all of them. She would love to leave, but winning the lottery is more likely than being hired right now so she'll buckle down, do the bare minimum, and thank the gods for the Internet.

*******

Her day starts like any other day. Until it doesn't.

She receives an email telling her to report to Ellison. He's the big boss man on the floor above her.

She rolls her eyes. Oh, what did she do?

She takes the stairs up and smiles at the receptionist who greets her by name. Oh. That's a pleasant surprise.

"I'm here to see-"

"Ellison. Yes, he's expecting you. Would you like some coffee or water?"

"I- no thank you." There are nice people in this building?

"You can go right in... He's the last door down that hall." She motions to the farthest door.

Karen smiles and thanks her, tucking her hair behind her ears and ducking her head.

His door is open, but she gently raps on the door to grab his attention.

"Miss Page! Yes, come in. Sit, sit." He motions to the chair opposite him.

She tucks her skirt under her and sits.

"I think it's silly to waste time, so I don't do it." He clears his throat and folds his hands on his desk. "I want you to come work for me."

She is so thrown she barks out a laugh which seems to amuse him. "Me?"

"Yes. You. You say that like you're not worth hiring. I think you are. I think you'll be a great addition." She stares at him with wide eyes. "Your co-workers...they don't like you. As far as we can tell there's no legitimate reason for that besides jealousy. That got me thinking... Jealous of what, exactly? So, I did some research."

Her head is spinning with so many questions.

"Turns out, you're talented."

"Uh, yes. I know."

"And confident. I love it. ...Well?"

Oh he wants an answer right now. She knows the work they do up here is more her style. Sex tips and hot new restaurants are important to some people and that's great, but it's just not her.

She asks him some questions about her pay and what she'll be writing and she's more than happy with all of his answers.

She accepts the job and feels like she's floating. When she leaves, she asks the receptionist's name and receives smiles from everyone she passes on her way out. That is literally more smiles than she has received in the three years she's worked on the floor below.

She packs up her desk even though she doesn't start until Monday. It's only Thursday.

*******

His light comes on at 11. He's early. She only catches a glimpse of him as he's leaving the room. When he returns, she can clearly see he's bloody. She hates the bloody nights. She's pretended to not watch him or be overly concerned in the past but this time she stops what she's doing and walks to her window.

She's very lucky the windows on this block are so big. Most other buildings in Hell's Kitchen have teeny tiny Windows.

She's standing at her window staring openly at his shirtless form. It's a stab wound and her breath catches in her throat. She swallows hard and feels panic edge into her periphery.

This isn't the first time and it won't be the last. This must be what she craves. This roller coaster of emotions, this anticipation. She doesn't even know this man! She shares an alley with him and has never met him in person. You know, without glass panes between them.

He finishes stitching himself and wipes the blood off with what looks like a shirt. Oh, come on. She wants to clean him properly and ...take him to a hospital. Every time. Every damn time. Maybe one day she'll get used to this helplessness.

He tosses the shirt aside and bends forward. What's he doing? Writing something? He holds a piece of paper against the glass - there's dark stains of blood smudged on it but clear as day in thick black marker, 'I'm ok.'

She could cry with relief. She smiles and touches her fingertips to the glass. He nods and walks away from the window, hopefully to shower because he's filthy.

Can't he take a weekend off and watch crappy movies with his dog? Just...heal a little, dammit.

Her night is just beginning and if Frank is showering, she wants to be there for the towel. Maybe tonight will be the night that fucking towel will fall.

She gets comfy on her bed with her laptop and opens a few tabs - one for reading, one for writing, and one for (arithmetic - no, not really) watching.

Her eyes droop easily not five minutes into one of her favorite episodes of The West Wing. This is a pleasant surprise as she's not used to sleeping before 2 am.

She's determined to make it long enough for the wet Frank showing. A swig of NyQuil will help things along.

She absolutely must get used to getting a decent night's sleep if she's going to succeed in this new position. It's all she could have hoped for - Ellison reaching down and plucking her from the dregs to showcase her real, natural born talent.

*******

She sits up to watch him unabashed when she senses he's there. He's wearing sweatpants and that's it. His chest is a thing of beauty. He doesn't spend much time there, but he leaves the light on when he moves away from the window.

No towel tonight.

She has to wait 24 more hours before she sees him again. A lot can happen in 24 hours.

What if he moves?

What if he dies?

What if he starts closing his blinds?

What if she fails miserably in this position?

What if she loses her job and loses her apartment?

What if she's a damn fool and needs to focus on real life and not her made up relationship with the vigilante?

Plus, it's unrealistic to think most of those things could happen in 24 hours.

Really just...what if he dies?

*******

The next morning she comes in to an email asking her to join some of her soon to be co-workers at a bar not too far from their building.

They would like to welcome her to the team. Her eyes well up with tears. She blinks them away quickly when she hears more of her current co-workers filing in.

The rest of her day drags and the anxiety of anticipating tonight threatens to choke her, but finally FINALLY five o' clock arrives.

*******

The bar is dimly lit and packed. It smells horrible but the beer is cheap and the "team" is buying.

She laughs and enjoys every minute of her night with these (seemingly) wonderful people.

She's waiting for the universe to give her a swift kick in the ass as it usually does when things are moving along too smoothly.

Maybe with her new job, she'll try on a new attitude and attempt this positive thinking she's always hearing about.

*******

She gets home close to 4 am and almost jumps out of her skin.

He's at his window staring at her. Something like relief flashes across his features. Blink and you'd miss it. He's still watching her as she removes her light jacket and heels. There's a question there written plain as day.

She opens her notebook and writes 'I'm okay'

She holds it up to the glass with a soft, appreciative smile and he smirks.

She changes into an oversized t-shirt, aware of his stare and gives him a small wave before climbing into bed. No NyQuil needed.

*******

It's impossible to sleep in so she doesn't even try. She was able to knock out for a good three hours and since it's Saturday she has the option of napping later.

The remainder of the weekend will be filled with a whole lot of nothing and she couldn't be more pleased.

She might even watch a stupid amount of porn.

Don't judge.

She needs a shower because her hair smells as if a cigarette and a french fry were copulating. She thankfully stopped after three beers and drank water the rest of the night. She's learned her lesson too many times - she's not twenty-one anymore.

She wonders if he's home. It's early and she doesn't usually see him in the morning. She checks his window and sees his dog instead.

Frank has what seems to be a small table directly below his window and his dog is currently sitting on top of it, watching her every move. She's not sure if she thinks this is adorable or Cujo-esque.

She waves at the dog and he stands and sits and wags his entire body with excitement. Poor dog. All alone, all the time. What does he do all day? Probably sleep. She takes it back - damn lucky dog.

She spends a stupid amount of time "communicating" with this handsome grey pit bull. Before she knows it, it's 11:30 am and she hasn't eaten or had any coffee. Also, that shower is calling her name. She waves goodbye to the pit and gives him an exaggerated pout.

He scratches at the window and her heart breaks a little.

*******

She's freshly showered, but doesn't have it in her to eat or prepare coffee. The exhaustion hits her like a wall and her bed is all she wants. Her life is so thrilling. Could she be depressed?

No, yeah. She's definitely depressed.

She doesn't want those pills again.

Her eyes are closed before her head hits the pillow and the sounds of the Kitchen lull her into a deep slumber.

*******

When she wakes, it's already dark and she's starved. She chugs a seltzer water until her throat burns and her eyes water.

She microwaves some leftover Chinese takeout and notices a piece of paper taped to his window that most certainly was not there before she slipped into sweet unconscious.

Name's Blue.

The dog, she assumes. If not, it's a very peculiar note.

She scrambled to find her notebook and writes her own note - does she even own tape? Yes! She pilfered a roll from work last Christmas.

Hi Blue, I'm Karen

The rest of the evening is Chinese and Netflix.

His light doesn't come on and she isn't sure if she can't sleep because she slept all day or because there's a possibility he's dead.

*******

She dreams he's there with her, on top of her, shielding her from gunfire. He's so close she can breathe him in and feel his heat.

He's whispering to her, telling her to stay low. She doesn't know where they are or who is shooting but she's so thankful he's there acting as her shield.

She wakes with a start. It must be at least 10 am.

It's noon.

She sits up and pulls her laptop onto the bed. She googles him and spends more time than she would care to admit reading every little tidbit about him.

It's not the first time and it won't be the last.

*******

When she finally pulls herself out of the rabbit hole that is Frank Castle, she decides it's time to get some fresh air. Well, as fresh as the air can be in the Kitchen.

A walk will do her some good though.

She'll stop at a nice bakery on her way home and pick up a bagel or muffin for her Monday morning breakfast.

*******

The air hits her lungs and it feels like she's being cleaned. Like every breath she takes is washing away the hazy weekend and energizing her for her first week at her new job.

She's smiling to herself, thinking about all the new possibilities coming her way and she's ready to tackle every one of them.

*******

He's watching her. She doesn't know it and never will, but he's been splitting his time between the slime of Hell's Kitchen and Karen.

He's beyond intrigued by her.

She's his touchstone in an abundantly rocky terrain. Her light brings him back to the world of the living, keeps him human, keeps him alive. She reminds him that he's, at his very core, just a man. A man fueled by the dark and devil's gasoline. He could stay there, in the dark, slipping deeper into a world of hate, rage, and revenge... Then she turns on her light


	2. Houdini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wants to tell him to open his window and tell her all his secrets. She wants to know all there is and be there for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is shorter than I would have liked, but I don't like forcing it just to raise the word count. It stopped here organically. 
> 
> I've hit a wall with Seven and don't know where I want to take it ☹️
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts on this!
> 
> Amanda (punishpage on tumblr)

Monday morning comes too soon, but her excitement has her out the door long before she needs to be. 

She's on her way to the subway when her steps falter and she's slammed with a feeling of dread. She's suffered from anxiety almost her entire life, so when this happens she recognizes it for what it is. 

She starting a new job with new people and her new boss handpicked her so they have expectations and also her shoes don't quite match her outfit and there's a lot less money in her bank account than she's comfortable with and Frank could be dead and she has no one in this city and she ate too much this weekend and slept too little and she's not hydrated and did she pay Verizon? 

This shit, is unfortunately inevitable. 

This is her. She worries about any and everything conceivable. 

*******

She's about to step onto the subway car when an arm slips around her waist and holds her tight. She is so startled, she emits something between a scream and an 'oof.'

A man whispers in her ear, "you're okay. You're safe. "  
Holy Satan, it's him. The one scaring even the most ruthless of criminals, the one raised on the Devil's backbone, the mass murderer planting love, hate, fear, and admiration in the hearts of every citizen living in this city. 

Her neighbor, the dog owner, Frank Castle. 

He's holding her in a way that does not allow her to twist around in his arm, his head directly behind hers so she can feel his breath on the nape of her neck. 

"You need to get outta here. Now. Fast."

"But-"

"Go."

He releases his grip on her and she turns to see him, hopefully face to face, but he's gone. Just like that. 

What the hell kinda Houdini shit...?

His words come back to her and she's never run faster up stairs while wearing heels in her life. 

She runs, knocking into and apologizing (you can't take the rural Vermont out of the girl and all that) plenty of people that are just trying to live. 

Batshit blonde barreling into innocent pedestrians. 

She only stops when her lungs hurt. She's sweating and her hair is a mess. 

Fuck. Shit. 

*******

She makes it to work 15 minutes early, but doesn't know how to explain her appearance. 

Why? Why does this shit have to happen to her? Why on the first day of her new job? She wants to space out and think about his voice and the way it made her feel. It sent those pleasant shivers down her spine and made her want to press against him and moan. He was so close to her and yet, she still couldn't look into his eyes, search his face. 

She was in such a rush to get there and fix herself in the nearest bathroom she didn't notice all of her co-workers were congregating in their conference room, gathered around the television. 

Her stomach drops. 

She steps slowly into the room and Ellison looks up at her. "Have you seen this? Isn't this near you?"

She stares blankly back at him, not knowing what to think or feel. Should she tell him? 

No, probably not. 

It'll be her secret.

"I uh...yes. It is. Thankfully I didn't uh- I wasn't there." She stammers. 

He takes in her appearance and nods. "That's some luck."

*******

Seven men were on the subway cars, blending with the rest of the common citizen commuters. Their plans were to open fire. The media has not released their motivation. 

The Punisher stopped every one of them, by killing them of course. 

Ellison and the rest of the office is in a frenzy around her as she breathes deeply and waits for her assignment. 

*******

It has never felt so good to strip off her clothes and stretch out naked on her bed. 

She's showered and sleepy and thinking about that voice. His voice. 

*******

She wakes up around 3 am and he's there, watching her and cleaning his guns. She sits up slowly and blinks away the hazy sleep. It's stuffy in her apartment so she goes to the open window, forgetting or not caring she's still very much naked. 

He sets down the gun and meets her at his own window. 

She touches her fingertips to the glass and mouths the words 'thank you' and he nods in response. 

She smiles and he responds in kind. You would think a smile would look foreign on The Punisher's face. 

She wants to tell him to open his window and tell her all his secrets. She wants to know all there is and be there for more. 

But then he waves to her as he stalks off into his dimly lit apartment and Blue is back on the table panting at her. She waves at Blue. 

The rest of her morning is agonizingly slow. 

*******

Her assignment, because she's new, is to interview the passengers. 

She expected as much and knows this is to feel her out, get a sense for her writing style. 

Could you imagine if Ellison knew she communicates with The Punisher nightly? Her assignment would be very different and she's not sure she wants to share her - their private world with the public. 

*******

His window is open. There's no screen and it's open. 

She's frozen. Does she open her window? 

She does. 

She lies on her bed, listening to the sounds of metal and such. She doesn't know much about guns, but he's there doing his thing and she's imagining she's just in the next room, preparing herself for him. 

Her hand is between her legs, making slow work of the ache building there. 

She would lie there, waiting for him, wet for him, when he returns after a night of erasing the dark spots that litter the earth. 

*******

He hears her before he sees her and fights with himself before settling on watching her. She knows he's there and there's a chance this is for him. It would be rude to ignore her. 

She doesn't look at him. Not once. She falls asleep, naked and on top of her covers. 

When she wakes up there's a note taped to his window. 

'Beautiful'

The secret smile painted to her lips does not falter throughout the day. 

*******

Ellison is impressed with what she was able to do with the little information she pieces together. She can guarantee not one of those passengers noticed anything was off until Frank and his guns showed up and then they were all detectives. 

This one noticed something funny about one of the guys specifically but couldn't put her finger on it. 

That one could tell he was a crook by the clothes he was wearing. 

It all makes her roll her eyes and need a drink. 

She stops on her way home to buy a bottle of vanilla vodka and coconut rum. She's never even liked coconut but she'll be damned if it doesn't pair perfectly with almost every flavor seltzer water she has at home. 

See, that's the trick - hydrate while dehydrating. 

She's a smart woman. 

*******

She's on her second seltzer and rum when his window opens. 

She is, for whatever reason, not in the mood. 

He's moving around doing who knows what and she closes her blinds. 

It's been a long time she has shut him out. 

Maybe it's the rum or maybe it's her PMS, but she doesn't care about his stupid murderous antics right now. She wants to write and she wants to find inspiration from somewhere other than him. 

So, a walk it is. It's not that late - only 9 pm.

*******

She finds herself at a park. It's a little park, but it's well lit and her gut tells her it's safe for now. 

She sits on a bench and breathes in the night air. Her limbs feel loose from the rum and she's thankful for moments like this in her city. 

She's sees Blue come around the bench before she sees Frank. He's not on a leash and he's on her lap before she can process what's happening. 

"Blue. Down." He says in a stern voice. The dog sits in front of her and she scratches his head. 

He sits next to her. "Sorry about that - I think he has a crush."

She's quiet. She doesn't know what to say. Her heart is pounding against her rib cage and her anxiety is threatening to take over. 

"I uh- I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

He shifts on the bench and she still hasn't looked over at him. Why after all this time of only wanting to be near him can she not bring herself to meet the eyes of the man who not only saved her life but waited up just to make sure she was okay?

"Ma'am?"

Oh lord. She looks at him then. "Frank?"

He smirks and tells Blue to go ahead and take a lap. 

The dog takes off and does exactly that. 

"Did I- you know, upset you?"

"No, why?"

He swallows and meets her eyes and she's struck. His eyes are soft brown. Not the eyes of a killer. His face is all hard lines and sharp angles set around a nose that's been broken too many times and swollen cheeks that have been split open and mended. The array of colors splashed over his skin, from a yellowish green to a deep blue and purple, makes him look as though he's not real somehow. He's a work of art or a painter's pallet, but instead of happy little trees this artist has painted nothing but pain, anger, and rage. 

"C'mon, are we gonna do this?" There's a touch of humor in his tone. After looking at her expression his becomes incredulous, "I guess we are. ...you closed your blinds on me."

"Oh. Yeah I- I didn't close them ON you, I was- it's easier to concentrate when I'm not tempted to- you know."

"Oh, I know."

She smiles at him. "Do you want- there's a coffee place I like nearby if..."

He sighs and whistles for Blue. Blue comes running. 

"I can't. Duty calls."

She tries not to be visibly upset. 

"Rain check?" He wants to explain to her every fiber of him - every frayed nerve - wants to rest and be healed by her. With her. 

"Sure, yeah."

She does not watch them go. 

******* 

She heads home and opens her blinds when she's there. 

She sleeps soundly and he's there in the morning. He isn't watching her, but he doesn't need to be. She knows he sees her.


	3. The Punisher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It doesn't bother you."
> 
> It's not a question. He's acknowledging the fact that she knows who he is and here she is - staring him down. She knows who he is and she leaves her blinds open to him.

She gets tipsy and enters his building.

It's a Friday night and she came straight home after work hoping to catch him at his window, but his apartment was dark. So, she had some rum and decided to write. A few drinks and an hour later and she wants some air. She hadn't intended on going to his building when leaving her own, but here she is.

It's a basic building, almost exactly like her own. Her rum addled brain seems to think she can find his apartment and instead she gets completely turned around. She hides around a corner when she hears someone coming down the hall. They're whistling and the footfalls sound heavy like...boots. No. Noooo.

She hears a dog panting and sneaks a look around the corner. It's him. How the hell did she pull that off? He doesn't see her - she's so slick. She's holding her breath, waiting for him to close his door. The door isn't closing. It isn't opening either. Shit. She's trying to stalk off in the other direction when Blue jogs around the corner and jumps on her. Frank looks around the corner at her and asks if she wants to come inside. He doesn't ask what she's doing there or why.

"I...sure?"

He nods and laughs lightly. He's wearing a hooded sweatshirt and cargo pants. His hair looks freshly cut - she knows he does this himself with clippers. It's oddly sexy.

She smiles down at Blue and scratches his head. She follows the dog around the corner and walks into the lion's den. It's ...white and grey and black. Minimalistic would be generous. He has a couch and a TV and a kitchen...area. It's bigger than her place.

"How did you find me?"

"I can honestly say I have no idea."

He laughs at that and motions for her to sit on the couch. He busies himself with feeding Blue. "You thirsty?"

"No, I think I've had plenty to drink tonight, but thank you." She smooths her hands down her skirt and tucks her hair behind her ears.

"Oh yeah? You go out tonight?"

"No I, uh- I had a few drinks at home."

"Writing some articles?"

She's taken back. He's obviously seen her on her laptop - it's her security blanket, but how could he possibly know what she's doing? Sure, it's easy to come to the conclusion someone is writing as they click away on their keyboard, but...

"How did you know?"

He sits on the coffee table in front of her and tilts his head a bit. "Know what?"

"I- that's my job. We've never-"

"Didn't have to. I have my ways." He scrunches his nose before take a healthy sip of coffee. Where did that come from?

"Do you have more of that?" She motions to the mug.

"How do you take it?"

"Black is fine."

He hands her his mug. "Only have one."

What would he have done if she took cream or sugar?

She takes a sip and nearly chokes. She might as well be drinking mud. She hands the mug back over to him and he looks amused. "Too strong?"

"Shouldn't you be...going soon?"

"Don't have to if you give me something better to do."

She gives him a sideways look and for his part, does his best to look chagrined.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, ma'am." His face says he knows exactly what he was implying. "I seem to remember giving you a rain check on coffee at a place you like?"

"Oh, of course." She removes her jacket. "We can do that another time... I don't feel like going back out just yet. Do you mind?" She bends to remove her shoes.

"Get comfortable. Stay awhile." There's amused humor in his eyes and she is thankful for the cheap rum in this moment because she is feeling bold. Not bold enough to fuck him yet, but bold enough to make herself comfortable on his couch.

"So, you really don't have somewhere to be?" She leans back on the couch, getting settled. "Some...drug runners or human traffickers to eliminate?"

"It doesn't bother you."

It's not a question. He's acknowledging the fact that she knows who he is and here she is - staring him down. She knows who he is and she leaves her blinds open to him.

"Should it? Your methods may be...unsavory, but I for one feel safer."

He smiles and bounces his leg before standing and refilling his mug. "You- you're always safe. You should know that. I want you to know that." He comes to sit in front of her again and moves her legs so they are situated between his.

"You saved me and like a hundred other people not long ago. I know I'm safe." She lowers her voice to almost a whisper, "I've known it for awhile."

He's watching her - sizing her up and the heat of his gaze is making her squirm. "You okay?" He asks her, knowing she's not.

"I wish I had gotten changed after work." She untucks her shirt from her skirt.

"So do I," he smirks before taking a pull off his mug.

"You weren't even home!" She smacks his thigh and he throws his head back and laughs.

"How do you know I don't have surveillance on you?"

Her smile falters. "You wouldn't."

"No, I wouldn't, but you should see your face."

"Frank-"

"Karen, I would never." He's serious and she takes his word. "Blue on the other hand..."

She laughs and Blue perks up when he hears his name. "Can I walk him some time?"

Frank seems surprised by this. "I'm afraid he wouldn't wanna come back." Blue is licking his face as Frank scratches his back.

"My place is too small for him." She tucks her legs under her. "He looks lonely when you're not around and I just- I don't know, I thought I could ...entertain him?"

"Sure. I'll give you a key." He gets up and opens one of the three drawers in his kitchen and comes back with a shiny new key. The symbolism of this lodges in her throat. He's handing over his personal space to her without blinking.

"Don't you ever worry they'll find you?"

"Who's they?" He sits across from her again and she wonders briefly what it will take to get him to sit next to her.

"They- the bad guys. What if they found you?" She worries about this more than she should considering he's not her responsibility and can clearly take care of himself.

"What makes you think I'm not the bad guy?"

She studies him carefully and quickly deduces this is something he struggles with. She says it quietly with confident assurance, "you're not the bad guy."

He swallows hard and examines the floor between them. "I'm not so sure about that."

"I am." He looks up at her. "I've never felt safer in my life." He scoffs at her and shakes his head. "Don't do that- don't ...just stop. You do this thing and you- God, I could have lost my life the other day. All of those people- all of them have you to thank for being able to leave that subway alive."

He clenches his jaw, nostrils flaring.

"And that wasn't the first time. You save people for a living and you do it alone with no support- no one to back you. You're a one man army fighting a war only you can fight and anyone that can't see what you do as heroism is a damn fool." She's worked up and he's staring.

"So you think-" he clears his throat and looks away from her, "you think what I do is heroic?"

"You don't?"

"No. I'm no hero and I don't want that... You see, what I do is necessary. These, what... Cops, lawyers, judges... It's a process. It takes time and money and sometimes they get off. Sometimes they do time and get right back on the streets doing the only thing they know. You know what I know? I know they'll always come back."

She's quiet and feeling the weight of his words. The weight of this situation and the weight of him. She's sitting with Frank, but finally sees the Punisher.

"With me out there, there's no judge or jury. They don't come back." His eyes are wild and his body tense. She doesn't know what her next move is here. She's not scared - not at all. The thought of him being violent with her is not a thought she will even entertain, but his energy and presence - it's dark. She wants to slip down into that darkness with him let it envelope her.

"I know," she agrees quietly. "I trust what you do or I wouldn't be here."

He knows. He knows she trusts him. He knows she fears for him the way he fears for her.

"I'm glad you are." He confesses.

They meet each other's gaze and stay like that, locked into each other for what feels like an eternity before she bites her lip and breaks away.

"I should go." She bends for her shoes and he watches. "I need to get out of these clothes and into a hot shower."

He thinks it's a shame there's no window in her bathroom and tells her so. Her face turns from porcelain to rose and it's his new favorite color.

"Take Blue if you want."

"Really?" She lights up and the cold hard steel that frames him fractures.

"Yeah, you got me all worked up so I'm gonna go to work." He gets Blue's leash. "He can keep an eye on you while I'm out."

"Thank you, Frank." She kisses him on the cheek and that stress fracture grows to a crack.

"My pleasure, ma'am."

*******

She walks Blue for a little while to tire him out before heading back to her apartment. Her landlord is never around, but she still gets him in as quickly as possible so no neighbors spot her.

Blue seems to know where he is immediately. He goes directly to the window and looks across to his home. From the window he climbs onto her bed and gets settled easily. She tells him to behave before she strips down to shower.

She's freshly showered and dressed in a night shirt and socks, ready to join Blue on her bed. She glances at Frank's window out of habit before falling fast asleep.

*******

She wakes to sunlight and someone gently knocking on her door. She sleepily stumbles to the door, rubbing the sleep fog from her eyes.

"Who is it?" She grumbles.

"You need a peephole."

Frank.

"I hope you have coffee and food." She snaps as she opens her door.

"You're not a morning person." He hands her a coffee and a little brown bag with a jelly doughnut inside. Regular sugar not powdered. One of her favorites. "You need a peephole." He repeats.

"I'll be sure to tell the landlord when I see him never."

"I have a feeling you'll have one by Monday."

She rolls her eyes and hides her smile with the coffee he brought her.

Blue is panting and wagging his entire body with excitement and Frank goes to him.

So, Frank is on her bed. No big deal. She hasn't imagined this scenario seventy five million times.

"Thank you for the-" she holds up the coffee and takes a bite of the doughnut.

He's smiling at her and she feels self-conscious. "What?" She mumbles around the mouthful of doughnut.

He stands and moves close to her, tipping up her chin with his rough finger. He bends slightly, wrapping his arms around her and kisses her. He runs his tongue along her top lip before pulling away.

"Sugar," he murmurs. Wha-?

Oh, right. From the doughnut. She should ditch that.

Her legs are numb. Does she have legs? She has legs, right? She looks down. Yup, there they are. She looks back up at him - his hands have moved to her hips. She throws her arms around his neck and pulls him back into that kiss. That fucking kiss. Shut up. That was the best fucking kiss to ever kiss.

Her sleep shirt is being pulled over her head and his big, callused hands are on her ass immediately - grabbing tight and holding her impossibly close to him. He turns her and backs her onto the bed. He pulls her hips to the edge of the bed and gets to his knees. She throws her head back and waits patiently for his hot wet tongue to find her.

When it does, her hips come off the bed and he holds her down. He puts her legs over his shoulders and dives back in - his tongue exploring every nuance.

She could cry or scream - she settles on moaning his name and she can feel him smile. His tongue is soft but unrelenting and she's falling over that steep cliff in no time.

Once he's satisfied with his work and she's begging for him, he crawls on to the bed and on top of her.

"Good morning." She says, her voice thick with post orgasm.

He kisses her hard and she can taste herself on him. It's heady and wicked and she never wants it to stop. Fortunately, he stays and when he does enter her it's as if he was meant for this, for her.

Punisher be damned, from this moment on he's all hers and she'll follow him into the darkest corners of hell just to feel him.


End file.
